


F*ck This Family

by GoAwayOlivia



Category: Batman (Comics), DCU (Comics)
Genre: #batfamcontentwar, Family Frustrations, Family Shenanigans, Gen, No proofreading we die like mne, The language is Jason, The language is always Jason, mature rating is for language
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-30
Updated: 2018-07-15
Packaged: 2018-10-25 11:43:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,424
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10763565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GoAwayOlivia/pseuds/GoAwayOlivia
Summary: When it comes down to it, the Bat-Family is actually pretty much a disaster.(If the Bats were a little less Bat-like and a little more like a normal family)





	1. Communication Breakdown (Jason, Dick, Tim, Stephanie)

**Author's Note:**

> This is pretty much the last thing anyone wants from me, but I thought it would be nice to show I'm still here and still alive. Also, I need something light while I handle the heavier things I'm writing.
> 
> Like most things these days, this is entirely the fault of chibi_nightowl who inspired me with her amazing Coffee House Rules to structure all my scattered brain decluttering/stress relief writing. 
> 
> Last thing, this is (as always) a mishmash of canon, and takes place in somewhat kinder reality where everyone is mostly getting along. I'll probably vary up the POVs as well.

Jason glares at the text on his phone. Waking up to a text from someone in the family is always a headache, and he gives his phone a resentful look before moving over to his kitchen. He doesn’t have the patience to handle them at this hour of the morning. Or afternoon, he corrects, seeing the time on his phone. 

He waits until he’s had a cup of tea and breakfast (lunch) before he finally unlocks his phone and reads the text message.

Dickhead: _Family meeting tonight._

Jason sighs and mutters, “Thanks, Dick. Very informative.”

He’s hesitant to ask Dick for any details though, because knowing Dick, Jason will only get a long, convoluted tale that will waste his time and won’t answer any of his questions. Instead, he texts Tim. 

Jason: _What’s this meeting tonight?_

Babybird: _We have a meeting tonight?_

Jason groans and drops his head impatiently on his wooden countertop. He grumbles under his breath as a stream of text messages follow the first. 

Babybird: _What kind of meeting?_

Babybird: _Family meeting or FAMILY meeting?_

Babybird: _What time?_

Babybird: _Where?_

Jason huffs and texts back. 

Jason: _Fucking chill, babybird. I don’t know anything about it. That’s why I was texting. Ask Dick._

This is his fault, really. He should have anticipated Tim being as out of the loop as him. He’s been overloaded with casework and WE work, and sleeping and socializing haven’t been high on his list of priorities lately. Asking Tim was a mistake, but Tim presumably follows Jason’s suggestion because his phone goes blessedly quiet. Jason has just enough time to relax and settle into his second cup of tea before his phone rings.

“For the love of fuck,” Jason grumbles in annoyance, snatching it up to answer. 

“What’s this about a family meeting?” Stephanie chirps loudly in his ear. “What kind of family meeting, because I’m not always included and I don’t know whether or not I should be there.”

“I know nothing, don’t ask me,” Jason replies immediately. 

“Tim said you texted about a meeting.”

“No, _Dick_ texted about a meeting, and I asked Tim if he knew the details.” 

“So, what do you think? Family meeting or _family_ meeting. Should I bother or not?” 

“Do you listen?” Jason complains as he gets up and heads to his room to change. He needs groceries and he slept later than he intended. “I don’t know, don’t ask me.” 

Stephanie hums thoughtfully. “Do you think Damian knows?” 

Rolling his eyes, Jason replies, “Whether he does or doesn’t, he’s a little shit who’s going to tell you that you’re not needed there. Call Cass.”

“I called her first, she doesn’t know. Plus, she does the opposite of Damian and tells me to come when I’m really not needed. You’re a more unbiased party.”

“Bullshit,” Jason replies immediately, pulling on some jeans. “I always tell you to come because I like watching Bruce’s face while we whisper about him in the back.”

Stephanie laughs, “Yeah, true. Alright, I’ll call Dick.” 

“Novel idea,” Jason retorts. “Bye, Blondie.” 

He gets another text while he’s at the grocery store.

Babybird: _FAMILY meeting. Cave. 9:00_

Then Steph texts when he’s unloading groceries. 

Blondie: _Not FAMILY meeting. You’re on your own. I’ll party with Babs instead._

Jason frowns, confused, but doesn’t reply. He’s a good way through making dinner when Dick texts.

Dickhead: _FAMILY meeting. 7:30. Dinner at Manor._

“Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me,” Jason glares at the phone and the dinner he’s halfway through cooking. Frustrated, he calls Tim.

“What time is the stupid meeting?” he grumbles.

“Nine, I told you,” Tim replies distractedly. He’s very obviously in the middle of something. 

“Dick just texted me 7:30. And what kind of meeting is it? Stephanie thinks it’s a family meeting, not _family_ meeting.” 

“Well Bruce told me 9:00 and the cave and said it was a _family_ meeting, so I’m assuming that includes Steph and Babs. 

“When did you talk to Bruce?” 

“A few hours ago. I’m in the middle of something. Bye.”

Jason grumbles under his breath. He texts Stephanie and then calls Dick who doesn’t answer. He looks at his half-done dinner and back at the clock. Tim is working on old information since he spoke to Bruce hours ago and Dick just texted. Which probably means the dinner plan is the new meeting plan. He makes the executive decision to abandon his dinner and head to the manor. He’s just getting on his motorcycle when he gets a rapid series of texts. 

Babybird: _Meeting’s off._

Dickhead: _We’re rescheduling for tomorrow._

Blondie: _No meeting. Catch you later, Hoodie._

Jason stares at his phone in disbelief before he growls and texts the lot of them. 

Jason: _I hate you all._


	2. Who Made Dad Mad? (Jason, Tim, Dick, Bruce)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter got longer, not shorter. I will get the hang of this drabble thing. Probably. In the meantime, enjoy more average family bats.

Jason’s not quite sure what day it is when he finally makes it to the Cave. He’s crossed the international datelines a few times in the last few days, and pretty much hasn’t stopped running around the globe since he left Gotham five days ago. Six days ago?

It’s unclear.

In any case, when he finally makes it in with an encrypted flashdrive that’s presumably full of evidence against a few of the planet’s most prolific black market weapons dealers, he’s running on empty and isn’t looking forward to the effort it’s going to take to decrypt it, so he’s actually pleased to see Bruce at the computer.

“Hey, B, do you think you could—” he’s not even halfway through with his request before Bruce snappishly cuts him off.

 _“No.”_

Jason stiffens, automatically defensive and offended. An “Oh Jason, you made it back from your incredibly dangerous mission? Good, I’m glad you’re back, I’ve been worried,” would have been nice. But no. He gets cut off with a _no_ for his troubles. 

“Yeah, I’ll remember that the next time you have a favor, asshole,” he retorts grumpily. Bruce doesn’t deign to reply and Jason makes a disgusted noise before he gives up and moves deeper into the cave. It’s a relief when he finds Tim at one of the auxiliary computers. He grabs a chair and drags it over before pulling the bag off his back and letting himself drop in exhaustion.

“Who made dad mad?” he demands by way of greeting.

Tim doesn’t look away from his rapid typing. “I assumed it was you.” 

Jason’s offended. “How could it have possibly been me? I wasn’t even on the continent until two hours ago.” 

“Hasn’t stopped you before,” Tim retorts.

Jason glares, “And to think I stopped at that little café you love so much in Paris and got you a present. I don’t think I’m going to give it to you now.” 

Tim’s hands freeze on the keyboard and he turns his laser sharp gaze on Jason. “You didn’t.” 

Jason pulls the bag of coffee beans out of his bag and waves it just out of Tim’s reach as an idea comes to mind. “I did. And I was going to give it to you out of the goodness of my heart, but now I’m going to make you work for it.”

Tim’s eyes narrow, “What do you want?” 

With his other hand, he pulls the flashdrive out of his jacket pocket and holds it where Tim can see it. “Decrypt this for me.” 

Tim doesn’t blink, not fooled for a second, “Bruce and his bitchy mood shoot you down?” 

“Didn’t even let me finish the question,” Jason confirms.

Tim sighs, but takes the flashdrive. “Fine. I don’t know why you don’t just do it yourself though. I know you can.” 

“I’m tired, I have no clue what day it is, and my head hurts,” Jason replies, setting the bag of coffee where Tim can reach it. The younger bird takes it with both hands and cradles it obsessively for a moment before settling it in his lap. He focuses back on the computer as Jason settles more comfortably in his chair. 

He’s dozing off sometime later when a voice pulls him back to consciousness. 

“Who made dad mad?” 

He looks up to see Dick approaching in Nightwing gear sans the mask. He’s fresh from patrol if the split lip is anything to go by, and there’s an annoyed look on his face as his gaze shifts from Jason to Tim and back again.

“It wasn’t me,” Jason defends himself immediately even if Dick wasn’t outright accusing him yet. “He was like this when I got here.”

Tim shrugs and replies, “He’s been like this all night. He was already in the Cave when I came down to use the system.”

“He seemed fine when I talked to him yesterday,” Dick offers. “I haven’t seen him sense.”

“Then it wasn’t any of us and we _know_ it wasn’t Cass,” Jason reasons.

“And he’d be pouty instead of pissy if it were Babs or Alfred,” Tim continues. “Which pretty much leaves—”

“Damian,” Dick finishes looking tired and exasperated.

“Fix it,” Jason declares, pointing a finger at him imperiously. “Bruce snapped at me and I didn’t even get to piss him off first, which just all sort of sucks.”

Dick hesitates. He looks exhausted and like he’d rather avoid both Bruce and Damian rather than do his golden child duty and negotiate their latest spat. There’s been quite a few of them lately with Damian inching closer and closer to teenager-dom with every passing day, and it stands to reason that even Dick would lose patience with them. 

“Or,” his big brother begins cautiously, “we could leave them to their fiasco. It doesn’t _have_ to be our problem. The penthouse has almost all the equipment the Cave has, and if we need extra eyes on something we have each other and the girls rather than B…”

Tim tilts his head, considering. “I bet if we ask nicely, Alfred will give us a heads up if either of them head to the penthouse.”

“Not to mention he’ll let us know when it’s safe to come back,” Jason adds.

“So we’re agreed?” Dick checks, looking relieved.

Jason nods and stands, “Yep. We ditch the drama queens and stay the hell away from the manor for at least a week.”

Tim closes out whatever he was working on and stands as well. “I’ll text Alfred. We should go ahead and go though. You especially, Dick. Before either one of them decides to try and drag you into it.”

“Right.” Dick nods decisively and they head for their vehicles. “Dinner at my place before patrol tomorrow?” 

“As long as you don’t cook it,” Jason retorts, getting on his bike. 

“Seconded,” Tim agrees.

“Deal,” Dick says before he grins mischievously. Suspicion flashes in Jason’s gut. “Race you into Gotham.” Dick taunts before he shoves his helmet on and rips out of the cave, leaving Jason and Tim cursing and scrambling to catch up.


	3. Can You Come Get Me? (Jason, Bruce, Babs)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'd planned this one to be a funny one, but it turned out a little more serious. I'm absolutely struggling to wrap up Not-So-Outlaw primarily because of Bruce and Jason, so I've been writing a lot of little practice pieces to help get me going. In any case, you might be seeing more of these two while i do my absolute best not to tear my hair out and shoot them both in the face.
> 
> Also I've completely given up on calling this a drabble series. What was I thinking? 
> 
> No beta, no proofreading. All sloppy mistakes are my sloppy mistakes.

Waking up with a face full of sand and no memory of how he got said face full of sand is definitely not how Jason wanted to start his day, but unfortunately, a face full of sand is what he’s got. It’s dark and it takes him a moment to realize he has his jacket draped over his head. The air is thin under the leather and sweat has plastered his hair to his forehead so he shoves the jacket off, gasping in the fresh air and immediately cursing the bright, blinding sun. 

His head is _killing_ him and Jason quickly jerks the jacket back over his eyes. 

“Holy mother of fuck,” he groans, voice dry and raspy, peeking out from under the jacket. All he sees is sand and a few scattered desert shrubs. He blinks rapidly, not quite comprehending his surroundings. “What the hell?”

He can’t remember how he got there, and that would be more troubling to him if he didn’t have such a horrendous headache. For now, the relentless pounding in his head keeps him from caring, and he closes his eyes and settles back in the hot sand for a little while longer. He’s already screwed; nothing is going to get worse if he takes a few minutes to get a handle on his headache.

Eventually, the sweat and the sand are enough to drive him into action, despite his pounding brain, and he pushes himself upright. His head screams and his body throbs, and Jason almost drops back down again. 

“Fuuuuuck,” he groans, long and drawn out. It takes a moment for his head to clear, but when it does he’s not surprised to find he’s covered in bruises and road rash. Everything aches and the slightest movement pulls at strained muscles. Nothing seems broken though, so Jason focuses his attention on his surroundings. His new upright vantage point doesn’t reveal much more than he’s already seen. Some rocks, a lot of shrubs, a few cacti here and there, and sand as far as the eye can see. His head pounds in the bright sunlight. It’s been a while since he’s had a headache this terrible, and he starts to wonder if maybe he has a concussion. It would at least explain why he has no idea how he got in the middle of the fucking desert. With the beating his body apparently took, a concussion wouldn’t be surprising. 

There’s no road anywhere in sight, and Jason isn’t yet clear headed enough to successfully puzzle out what direction he’s most likely to find one in the first place, but about three hundred feet ahead of him is a rock formation that’s producing a bit of shade. He stares at it for a while, debating the pros of shade vs. the cons of potential rattle snakes. He’s not at the top of his game and agonizing death by rattle snake venom would be the one thing that could make his already sucky day worse. 

He still isn’t quite sure how he got out here in the first place, but he’s not wearing his Red Hood uniform which is curious. These things don’t tend to happen to him when he’s a civilian. Then again, he’s not in his normal civilian clothes. Instead he’s wearing tight jeans (nicer than most of what he owns though they’re now torn in several places) and the shirt he’s wearing is thin and leaves little to the imagination. Jason’s head throbs as he tries to put together a sequence of events that landed him here in these clothes with the hangover from hell and a possible concussion. 

He gets a flash; something about Roy and Las Vegas. 

“ _Fuck!_ ” he swears again, even more annoyed now. There’s no sign of Roy anywhere around, but his situation is much more believable now that he knows Roy is involved. Some of the most ridiculous situations he’s ever been in can be blamed completely on Roy. When Jason figures out a way back to civilization, when he gets his hands on Roy, he’s going to strangle him. 

The heat of the sun beats down and with the headache and the dehydration that comes with the hangover, it quickly becomes too much for Jason. He decides to risk the rattle snakes. He drags himself to standing and starts trudging his way through the sand. His balance is way off though, and he almost falls a few times before he finally makes it to his destination. 

It’s not until he’s in the shade and has thoroughly checked the area for rattle snakes that snippets of the previous night start to return to him. He and Roy had been investigating a human trafficking ring operating in Sin City. They’d each gone undercover in separate locations, Jason at a nightclub and Roy a casino that they thought had ties to their trafficking ring. The separate locations had clearly been a stupid idea, but at least Jason finally understands the clothes he’s wearing. And to think he’d almost gone out in leather pants. That would have been the worst kind of hell. 

He doesn’t remember much about the nightclub, but he does remember the feeling of a drug creeping through his system even when he hadn’t had anything to drink. It’s hazy, but he remembers aborting the mission and attempting to get out of the nightclub as quickly as he could, knowing he only had so much time before the drug fully compromised him. 

After that, it’s even less clear. He has a flash of trying to fight off men in an alleyway, a flash of slipping binds in a dark place, a flash of drunkenly struggling with a few armed men in the back of a speeding van with the door wide open and then another flash of being thrashed roughly across the ground. He’d rolled ungracefully and stumbled to his feet before darting away into the night as the van screeched to a halt behind him. His captors must not have been able to find him then, and now he has an explanation for the aching in his body and the road rash scattering his limbs. The headache and the patchy memory can be attributed to the drug hangover, but Jason isn’t abandoning the possibility of a concussion. He’d been fighting while drugged to the gills and he’d jumped or fallen out of a speeding vehicle. It’d be surprising if he didn’t have one, to be honest. Still, he’s not eager to go poking around his tender head in search of head trauma. It aches enough as it is, and there’s not much he can do about it out in the middle of nowhere anyway.

He drifts for a little while, letting his aching mind have a rest. He’s almost asleep when he suddenly remembers grabbing a cell phone off one of the armed men in the van scuffle. His eyes snap open and he snatches up his leather jacket and shoves a hand into one of the pockets, rejoicing when it closes around a cell phone. It’s got the tiniest bar of service and 11% battery. 

“Fuck yes!” Jason exclaims happily as he dials Roy’s number. He immediately curses when he gets a message saying the number he’d dialed is unavailable. He tries again just to make sure he dialed the number right, but again, he gets nothing. 

He growls, frustrated. 

After just two attempts to make a call, the battery is at 8% and Jason frowns as he considers his options. No Roy means he’s going to have to call his family if he wants to make it out of this desert. He debates it for a hot minute before abruptly giving up. As humiliating as it’ll be to call one of the bats for a rescue, he’s exhausted and aching and thirsty as hell. He chooses the least annoying member of the family and dials the line that every last one of them has completely memorized: Barbara’s emergency line. 

“ _Who is this_?” Oracle’s computerized voice barks halfway through the first ring. 

Jason winces at the volume. “Chill, Barbie. No need to bite my head off.”

“Jason?” And it’s Bab’s voice over the line this time.

“Unfortunately. Think you could come get me?”

“Where are you?”

Jason pauses. “…Do you think you could figure out where I am and come get me?”

There’s a hefty sigh, “Alright, hold on.”

“Don’t send Dick,” Jason decides quickly.

“Depends on where you are, Jay. Dick’s in New York City.”

“Yeah, definitely not there so don’t send Dick.”

Barbara gives a low whistle. “Yeah, definitely not there. Why on earth are you in the middle of the Mojave Desert, Jason?”

“That part isn’t all that clear.”

Barbara grumbles, “Of course it isn’t. But, you’re in luck. Bruce must have suspected something, because he’s already got the Batwing in Nevada.”

Jason stiffens, sending a shock of pain all down his body. “No. No way, send Baby Bird, I can wait.”

“You can wait in the middle of the Mojave Desert,” Barbara states, unimpressed. 

“It’ll only take Tim a couple of hours, and we have more than one plane. B is anal like that.”

“He can be to your location in ten minutes, Jason.”

“You know, on second thought, it’s been a while since I’ve hung out with Dick. Give him a call, huh? I’m sure he’d be happy to come pick me up if it meant brotherly bonding time.”

“It’d take Dick even longer than Tim because he’d have to get back to Gotham to get the plane,” Barbara says impatiently. 

“…The demon know how to fly yet?” 

Barbara huffs, “I already sent Bruce your coordinates. He’ll grab you in 10.”

“Wait, no—!” Jason protests, but she’s already hung up. Jason moans and sulks back against his rock. As humiliating as it’d be to have to be picked up by one of his brothers, that’s nothing compared to needing Dad to come to the rescue. No doubt Bruce is going to scowl and lecture him about every little thing he did wrong. God, Jason can’t handle that right now. His head hurts too damn bad to deal with Bruce.

It’s not long before he hears the plane approach, and he doesn’t immediately get up when the Batwing lands in the middle of the open desert before him. Instead, Jason waits until Bruce is exiting the plane in full Batman gear before he drags himself to his feet. It takes him a moment, and he has to brace himself against the rocks briefly before the dizziness subsides. When his vision clears, Bruce is bearing down on him. 

“Injuries?” he demands, gauntleted hands grabbing Jason’s face as soon as he’s in reach.

“Hey!” Jason protests as Bruce’s hands start running methodically through his hair, fingers checking his scalp. Almost immediately he finds a tender spot on the back left side of Jason’s head. “ _Ow!_ ”

“What happened?” Bruce frowns, prodding around the edges of the bump gently. Jason swats at his arms, but he doesn’t let up. 

“I don’t know. I was drugged. And I might have a concussion.”

“Any other injuries?” Bruce says, checking down Jason’s arms. 

Jason bristles and shoves at him, “God, _stop_. I’m _fine_.”

Bruce reluctantly takes a step back, but asks again, “Other injuries?” 

He grumbles, “I’m dehydrated as fuck, if that counts.”

“It counts,” Bruce replies before they start moving. Jason’s balance is shit and he’s forced to rely on Bruce to help shuffle him onto the Batwing. He settles him in a seat and hands him a bottle of water. By the time Bruce has them up in the air with the auto-pilot engaged, Jason’s already drained the water bottle and started on another. 

“Slowly,” Bruce frowns at him. He’s lost the cowl and there are lines around his eyes that mean he’s spent the last few hours worrying. 

“Yeah, yeah,” Jason huffs in response, but with a little less bite than usual. Bruce grabs one of the first aid kits and pulls out a pen light to check Jason’s eyes. Jason immediately flinches away, swearing, “Shit, Bruce. That hurts, damn it!” 

“Concussion,” he confirms. “At least a mild one. I want to get a scan when we get back to the Cave to make sure there’s not any cranial bleeding.” 

“Lovely,” Jason grouses. 

He passes Jason a couple of anti-inflammatory pills and a towel he’s doused with some water, and Jason happily ditches his skin-tight, sweat-slicked shirt and starts vigorously rubbing away the sweat, dirt and sand. 

“So what are you doing out here anyway?” he asks as Bruce pulls some stuff to clean out his various spots of road rash. 

“You missed your check-in.” 

Jason blinks, “ _Seriously?_ I miss check-ins all the time.”

“The group you were going after is dangerous. You promised to check in this time, but you didn’t,” Bruce replies shortly. 

Jason’s eyes narrow and he snaps, “You didn’t think I could do it, did you?” 

The look Bruce gives him is impatient and a little bit frustrated, “If I didn’t think you could do it, I wouldn’t have let you leave. But things can always go wrong, and in this case, if anything did go wrong, you’d be all the way out here without immediate backup.”

“I had Roy,” Jason points out, then remembers, “Which reminds me, I gotta find him. Something might have happened to him too,” he says, a little worried. He blames the concussion for not considering Roy’s safety earlier.

“I’ve seen him. He’s fine,” Bruce says, tone hard and unhappy.

Jason’s confused. “What? When?”

“I tracked him down when I couldn’t get a hold of you, but he couldn’t tell me anything.” Again, there’s something hard in his tone and Jason narrows his eyes.

“Well where is he? I tried to call him, but his phone was off.” 

Bruce doesn’t answer and instead focuses on flushing the bits of sand out of Jason’s road rash. Jason frowns, “Bruce, where is he?” 

“In a holding cell in a Las Vegas police precinct.”

_“What?”_

“Harper got himself arrested trying to cheat a casino,” Bruce snapped. 

Jason drops his head in his hands, “Damn it Roy. Fucking—fine. Okay. Did you bail him out?” 

“No.”

Jason looks up angrily. “The hell, Bruce, you left him there?” 

“He was cheating at cards while you were undercover in a nightclub that had known ties to a dangerous human trafficking ring,” Bruce says shortly, like that’s a good enough reason to leave Roy in jail. 

Jason sighs. Never let it be said that Bruce Wayne isn’t a petty son of a bitch. “Can I at least use your phone so I can get somebody to go bail him out?” 

“No. I’ll let Queen know he’s there.”

“He’s not speaking to Queen.” 

“I know.”

“Petty as _shit_ ,” Jason grumbles. 

Bruce doesn’t deny it. “What happened?” he asks instead. 

“I don’t know,” Jason responds. “I was at the nightclub, and somehow somebody got me with a drug, but I didn’t drink anything so hell knows how that happened. I don’t know if it’s the drug or the concussion screwing with my memory, but best I figure they picked me up in an alley and I didn’t manage to fight them off. It’s hazy, but I was in a van and at some point I was able to jump ship and ended up in the middle of the Mojave Desert. I don’t know how they got me though—whether I was made or targeted for trafficking. I really just can’t remember. I did manage to grab a cell phone off of them, but I didn’t remember it for a while,” Jason says, offering the phone to Bruce. 

“We’ll trace the numbers in the contacts. Good job,” Bruce compliments, slipping it into his belt. 

Jason’s eyes narrow suspiciously and he repeats flatly, “Good job.” 

“Yes. You did good.” 

“Really?” Jason asks, disbelieving. “No _what were you thinking or that was stupid_ or _you should have done this_?”

Bruce looks a little exasperated and he pauses from his bandaging to look Jason in the eye. “You did good, Jason. Things go wrong sometimes. Doesn’t mean you did anything wrong. You managed to escape and stay alive in a drugged state and you managed to secure a way to call help, not to mention a way to track the criminals. My only complaint is that you went into a dangerous situation with only _Harper_ as back up.” And the way he says Roy’s name is full of disdain.

Jason frowns, “The Casino Roy was in has ties to the trafficking ring too, B. He was probably trying to see who in the Casino was involved by drawing them out. The fact that he ended up in prison and not somewhere worse means he didn’t find the right people. He wasn’t just trying to cheat a casino for the hell of it.”

The sound Bruce makes in response is highly unimpressed. 

Jason heaves an exasperated sigh. “This is going to be a thing now, isn’t it?” 

“Harper is off this case,” Bruce confirms. “And he won’t be working a case with the family until he proves to me he’s acceptable backup.”

“That’s not your decision. It’s never been your case. And you can’t tell me who I can work with, Bruce. I’m a damned adult,” Jason retorts, frustrated. 

“You’re an adult, but you’re also my son and your safety is my priority. Unless Starfire or someone from the family is also involved, I don’t want you working with Harper.”

Jason rolls his eyes and settles back, too tired and in too much pain to argue with Bruce at the moment. “Oh sure, Bruce, whatever you say,” he retorts, all sarcasm.

Apparently, Bruce also decides he’s not in the mood to argue. “You should rest, Jason. I’ll wake you up when we’re home.”

“Chances of you dropping me off at my apartment?” Jason asks hopefully. 

Bruce scoffs. “With a concussion? Nonexistent. And I will be doing a scan,” he reminds. “Not to mention Alfred’s been complaining since you’ve been out of Gotham anyway. The least you could do is give him a few days to dote on you.” 

Jason narrows his eyes. “Cheater.” 

Bruce gives the barest of smirks before he grips Jason’s shoulder briefly. “Rest. You’ve earned it.”

“Fine. But only because my head freaking hurts and I could go for a nap. Not because you told me to,” Jason retorts. Better not let Bruce think their relationship is getting too complacent.

Bruce rolls his eyes. “I’m not telling you to do anything, Jason. I’m saying you’ve had a rough night and deserve some rest.”

“Whatever you say, Boss,” Jason retorts, closing his eyes and settling in. 

There’s a pause and suddenly Bruce’s hand is ruffling Jason’s hair. His eyes snap open in surprise, but Bruce is already moving back to the pilot’s chair. He stares for a moment, unsure whether he wants to throttle Bruce for the action or not. _Fuck it,_ he thinks after a long moment of deliberation. _I’m too tired for this shit._ His eyes flutter shut once more and in moments, he’s asleep.


	4. "I really want to fight someone right now."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a prompt from chibi_nightowl. I originally posted it on my Tumblr, but felt it fit pretty well here too. If you can't tell, I've been binge watching the Great British Bake Off lately.

Jason stared at the empty plate on the counter. Crumbs still scattered the surface indicating where the mille-feuille had been but were no longer. There was one reason Jason was currently in the manor and one reason only: the promise of Alfred’s homemade mille-feuille. The homemade mille-feuille that Alfred almost never made because he made everything from scratch, including the layers of puff pastry—the homemade mille-feuille Jason hadn’t had since before he died because he was only recently associating with the family again—the homemade mille-feuille he could easily be convinced to kill for.

He continued to stare, but no mille-feuille appeared.

“What are you doing here?” a bratty voice demanded from the doorway, but Jason hadn’t yet dragged his gaze from the empty plate.

“I was invited. By Alfred,” he replied, his voice sounding hollow to his own ears. “He said something about mille-feuille and tea.”

Damian sniffed haughtily. “Why he would want your barbaric company is beyond me, but if it will get you to leave us sooner, he’s in the garden.”

Jason finally got himself together and dragged his gaze away from the empty plate. His eyes narrowed in on Damian as fire began to course through his veins. “Did you have any?” he demanded, jerking a finger towards the empty plate.

Damian scoffed. “I don’t care for mille-feuille, and Pennyworth’s attempts at French pastry, while superior to the sludge Americans produce, are passable at best.”

Jason’s eyes narrowed even more, and in that moment he was fairly sure he could breathe fire. “I need you to think very carefully about the next words out of your mouth, brat, because I really want to fight someone right now.” Damian’s posture stiffened a little at his tone, and he adjusted his stance to a more battle-ready position.

“Who else is in this house.” Jason demanded through gritted teeth.

Damian’s eyes narrowed a little, gaze flicking from Jason’s face to the empty plate and back again. Understanding suddenly lit his eyes and a sharp smirk took over his mouth. “Father, Grayson, Cain and Drake. Drake in particular was stuffing his face with mille-feuille and coffee this morning.”

Jason snarled and marched his way towards the kitchen door, snatching the dagger the demon offered up to him on his way out, well aware that he was purposefully setting him on Drake. Jason didn’t care. Every single one of them had undoubtedly eaten the mille-feuille and Jason was coming for them all.

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on Tumblr! https://comebackolivia.tumblr.com/


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